


Terminal program

by JackieSBlake7



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackieSBlake7/pseuds/JackieSBlake7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon discovers a connection with Terminal</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terminal program

Avon raised the gun and smiled as he reached the end game of what had started when he had agreed to join Blake on his attempt to take over the London… this, rather than victory was how he had expected things to end.  
Things started to go very strange. He was dizzy, felt that he was falling without being shot, lying on what was definitely not the ground.  
He was aware of people around him, confused voices, the taste of something medical… Servalan saying something…: what reason was there for her to be here on Gauda Prime, when Blake’s location had been so obscure even to Orac with all its abilities, and she had more reason to be on Xenon?  
‘I told you there was a risk the dream construct might go wrong!’ someone was saying.  
Avon decided not to stir until he knew more about the situation. Perhaps he could work out what was going on: the place did not “feel” like Blake’s base should from. He might also recover from the physical weakness he felt more rapidly if he was undisturbed.  
Dream sequence… that had been on Terminal. Had everything that had happened since he got there been nothing but a construct of his imagination and whatever Servalan had imposed? He would not regret some of it not being reality… the Malodaar incident was totally out of character… Now he remembered Servalan had been *born* on Gauda Prime – he had investigated her past once, long ago, in case there was anything to manipulate her with. And Blake had wondered, when Avon described the now Open Planet, what would make him become a bounty hunter – intending it as an idle speculation, and possibly disconcerted by the train of thought. Betrayal was what Avon disliked most… and Blake seemingly not living up to the dream he himself had created. That was a rational interpretation, which he would choose to accept. He would analyse anything useful from the dream later…  
Servalan had been saying something: by its tone hostile to the previous speaker.  
Avon decided not to say that if she did not eliminate so many of her subordinates for the failure of her plans, indeed accepted that some plans were not practical, she might get a better class of people to work for her.  
If he had been having a dream, had the Liberator actually been destroyed? Had it gone to Califeron? Would he be rescued? He trusted those who stayed with him to attempt a rescue – his posturing earlier had merely been an attempt to buy some time. As Vila had said once, they had been together long enough to work effectively as a team, and trust each other’s skills. Avon was prepared to accept that description of the group, rather than the concept of the gestalt. Perhaps they should get others to join it.  
‘I think he’s coming round…’ someone said close.  
Avon felt nauseous and most peculiar… he was drifting off again, but there was “something wrong with everything”, and he was missing something vital.

Time had passed: he was on a medical couch. Something strange was tickling in his mind, not quite like Cally’s telepathy, but similar.  
‘I think he’ll recover now Madame President.’  
‘Don’t think – make sure that he does live,’ a familiar voice said.  
‘Surely I have some say in the matter?’ Avon managed. His throat was dry, and he was cramping from lack of movement. “Someone” lifted his head, provided him with water. ‘Thanks.’ Politeness always helped – even with computers when verbal maintenance was not justified.  
‘You’re back among the living Avon.’ Servalan approached, stroked his cheek. He recognised her perfume.  
There was a change in the background sounds: several years on spaceships, and more of working with computers had trained Avon to be aware of such things. For some reason nobody else noticed.  
‘What happened?’ He opened his eyes: the room only spun a little.  
‘You reacted badly to the drugs we gave you.’  
‘Purely to annoy you,’ Avon managed. He accepted that he found Servalan physically attractive, an opponent whose challenge he enjoyed, but it was a conscious choice not to proceed further. He was suddenly disgusted by her and her scheming – Travis had been more honest… did Servalan know he was dead?  
‘That has been resolved.’  
‘What do you intend doing with me?’ Genuine curiosity as well as buying time.  
‘Oh, Avon. I am sure we can come to some arrangement…’  
‘No.’ Strength was returning. ‘I rejected you on Sarran, and I still do.’ Of that he #was# certain – and it had nothing to do with Blake’s posturing.  
‘Avon the rebel?’  
‘You don’t understand Servalan, never will. You lack curiosity for its own sake, empathy…’ She could never have been part of the gestalt mentioned in his dream. ‘What did you do to me? What do you want from me?’ He was trying to delay whatever she intended, he knew.  
‘To see at what point you say “enough!” and realise that the Federation is the only way forward.’  
‘Don’t you realise Servalan – you’ve just admitted that you have lost,’ Avon said. He would rather have lived the dream he had just had, and died an anonymous death on an unknown planet, than be Servalan’s flunky – or been a Cato to Vargas, from what he had been told of Cygnus Alpha. ‘Forced consent is no consent.’ Blake had said, or quoted, that once. ‘I chose to remain with Blake and the Liberator.’ He was #proud# of having made that statement  
‘Which went out of orbit: you will arrange for its return.’  
‘Not possible, without Orac to override.’ Avon was aware of people coming in the room.  
‘And the key is here,’ Servalan said, producing it. Avon had put it automatically in his pocket while on the Liberator.  
‘One of the keys,’ another, voice said, long unheard.  
Avon turned to look. Blake, with Vila beside him, and a couple of unfamiliar people behind. All were holding Liberator bracelets and weapons. No more peculiar than some of the aspects of his dream.  
‘You’re dead!’ Servalan said. ‘On Jevron. I saw…’  
‘An illusion – like Central Control.’ Blake replied. He gestured with the weapon to Servalan’s minions. ‘To the wall – all of you.’ They did so. ‘I have no objection to killing you here Servalan, if necessary.’  
Vila was putting a teleport bracelet on Avon’s wrist.  
‘Orac?’ Avon managed.  
‘Made a replacement key didn’t I?’ Vila said. ‘Not a very good one, given that I am not a computer expert and Blake’s new equivalent didn’t know Orac – but it worked long enough for the rat in a box to help us – I think it missed you. Yes, I will tell you later how I did it, and no, Orac isn’t damaged, only protesting, and suggesting a proper second key be made.’  
Avon managed a smile. He would tell Vila about Gambit eventually: it might be fun to create… and the substitute Orac would be useful – even if just to annoy the real one.  
There was an explosion that had to have been created by Dayna: she insisted that things should be decorative as well as effective, and she would probably find the guns with interchangeable clips interesting. Servalan had probably come up with the ideas of the Star Drive and Tachyon Funnel, or they would be more scientifically expressed… and the room merged into the Liberator teleport chamber.  
Avon allowed himself to lose consciousness. Here on the Liberator he was safe, and he would rather not know about what would be done to him in the medical bay.

He drifted as in a dream, but was conscious he was dreaming, and that he could to some extent define what he would do – and, was aware, vaguely, that he was in the Liberator medical unit. He had come to find Blake, and somehow they had met up. The Liberator had survived, and was out of Servalan’s control. Vila had been able to work out a way to get round the absence of Orac’s key… and would enjoy constructing Gambit, and the fake Orac. The computer might find the existence of a replica useful, as it could access information in two environments or several – or might see it as a threat. And there was some programming in his own brain … and it was not a threat… something for his conscious brain to work out.  
Avon woke abruptly, and sat up.  
Blake and Cally were in the medical unit. They had been talking and came to Avon. Cally adjusted the medical bed so that the back rose to support Avon in his new position.  
‘What happened?’ Avon managed. He was happy to see Cally… and Blake. ‘How did you get here Blake? What were you doing?’ Better to get answers than to give them at present.  
‘I am summarising,’ Blake said, and Avon nodded. ‘I came to the same decision as you did – from what the others said at about the same time as you did – that we’d keep on missing each other and achieving nothing much in the process. I then started doing the same sort of thing as Avalon: helping out wherever my services were required.’ He shrugged. ‘It appears that sometimes a brief appearance suffices – and I decided I would let others take on the leadership of the rebellion if they wished. As Vila would say – leadership of the Federation however reworked probably requires more work than I wish to put into it, and my skills are elsewhere – and I enjoy such things more.’ He smiled at Avon, obviously expecting a response.  
‘Better realise that before you lead the rebellion to victory and then finding you cannot take on the role of Hero-President assigned to you, and being blamed because it does not suit you. And there are worse paths to glory, or whatever you wish to achieve than being a leader whom others see as incompetent.’ Avon guessed where Blake’s argument could lead. He continued. ‘Hiring out the services of the Liberator and its crew to aid the rebellion and others generally, and solving problems, might be more practical than what you were doing before, and more interesting. The device the Ortega was carrying, Alban … everybody benefits with less danger to us.’ One version of a conversation that had been going on intermittently on the Liberator for years.  
Blake smiled. ‘That is one option for pursuing the rebellion.’  
It seemed that they might find common ground for future operations.  
‘We could borrow Vila’s idea and get everybody else to do the work for us,’ Avon added. ‘The opposition should be more coordinated.’ The idea seemed as practical in reality as it had in the dream. ‘Tell me how you came to rescue me.’  
‘As several of us – including other rebels – agree on cooperation in some form, we are either very right or very wrong: Orac can investigate the idea further. Well, I picked up some of the same messages that brought you to Terminal, and thought it most odd to hear from myself – the clone is safe and not involved – so decided to pursue them.’  
‘So how did you get to Terminal, as the last message was sent to the middle of nowhere?’ Avon asked.  
‘Your search and contact programs from after the War regarding me had continued – and I was able to finally get a message through to Zen. I have acquired another computer expert on my travels, and after we came to the Liberator we were able to override your instructions. He and Vila used their combined skills to create a temporary key for Orac.’  
‘I am grateful for being rescued – but don’t impose on me,’ Avon said. He felt suddenly tired again, and would learn the rest of the story later. It would be useful to have someone else who *understood* computing matters… and he wished to deal with whatever was in his mind.  
‘Until the next time we have to rescue each other,’ Blake said with a grin. He glanced at Cally, who nodded. ‘I was told about Anna. She must have been good to fool you. We’ve all been betrayed by those we had expected to trust.’  
Avon found his fists had clenched. ‘If you say so.’ He accepted the assessment, was glad that the matter had been dealt with sketchily.  
Blake thought for a few moments and smiled. ‘When you are recovered enough to go back to your room without anybody being aware of it, we will continue the discussion.’ Blake touched him briefly – Avon accepted the contact and the definition of when he would have recovered.  
‘What did the particle cloud do to the Liberator?’ Avon asked.  
‘Zen claims,’ Cally said, ‘that it was superficial damage that was contained. Vila insists that we get a consignment of herculaneum and double coat the ship to prevent anything worse happening.’  
‘So long as he does his share of the coating,’ Avon replied. It might be useful to see whether the time on Krandor – or forcing the restraints in Ultraworld – had resulted in any long term damage to the ship. Tarrant could not really protest at being made to do all the relevant technical work for once. ‘What do you make of Dayna and Tarrant?’  
‘She needs some direction – and would be interested in larger bangs. He… needs to learn when to hold his tongue.’ Their conversations might be interesting to observe.  
‘That reminds me – Servalan?’ Avon knew he was changing the subject – and that Blake accepted his lead.  
‘She was returned to Earth, compulsorily retired and someone else is now President. She complains somewhat – not least because her subordinates don’t seem to want her back.’  
Avon laughed. ‘Are you surprised?’  
‘No. Blake replied. ‘Shall we rescue her?’  
‘Wipe all her banking details, give her a new name and a very minor posting somewhere, and see what she can do with herself.’ Give her the role she had created for herself in the dream – and he would make her aware of what had been done, and why.  
Blake smiled. ‘If you “were retired” elsewhere – being somewhat too overenthusiastic about investigating the banking system once we took over perhaps – it would be a research station or something as good as the Liberator, with unlimited resources and a crew who are prepared to listen to you.’  
‘Probably – but not really a punishment,’ Avon admitted. Blake had merely extrapolated one possibility from Avon’s statements and activities. ‘Yes – but what shall I do now, apart from removing all the nonsense in your plans?’ One of the things Avon had missed during their time apart. ‘And getting your equipment to work.’  
‘You know the goals. Can we settle for removing most of the nonsense and dealing with all the equipment?’ Blake asked, accepting the teasing. They were going back to the situation before Blake had become obsessed with Star One. ‘And then I can do the same with you. Once the new regime takes over.’ He smiled ‘Shall we proceed as agreed – until we decide to renegotiate?’  
Avon sighed. ‘Why not?’ He found he was looking forward to the idea.  
Blake got up. ‘Avon – I know I can be somewhat overenthusiastic in what I do – and I don’t always remember to thank people for what they have done.’  
‘I had noticed.’  
‘Assume I appreciate what you contribute it even when I don’t say it.’  
‘As you wish. And trying to resolve your problems can be … interesting.’ The nearest Avon would come to saying he supported Blake’s cause.  
Blake smiled. ’There is the proverbial quote from a report about some officer’s troopers following him out of curiosity as to what he would do next – and you enjoy a challenge in your field as Vila does in his – or, I assume Tarrant with piloting… might be interesting what Jenna would make of him, in both senses.’  
‘There is some truth in that… and you might find Tarrant a challenge.’  
‘Might give you a run for your money in answering back.’ Blake grinned.  
‘Shall we look for Jenna?’ Avon asked: he was able to read Blake’s expression. ‘When the two groups are working together then.’  
‘Yes,’ Blake said softly, and then looked at Cally, who nodded. ‘You should rest now Avon.’ Blake said and left.  
Cally smiled at him: he heard her voice in his mind… he #had# missed her occasional telepathy in the dream. ‘You are cared for.’  
Avon reacted. ‘I heard that in my dream…’  
‘I was trying to reach you, could pick up something from you.’  
‘But I am not a telepath…’  
‘We have worked together long enough – and you humans can anticipate each other’s reactions.’

Avon, alone with his thoughts at last, tried to relax, found it difficult: he needed to know what had been done to him. Perhaps if he considered Gambit and the substitute Orac he would distract himself. Belkov, of course, had been one of his tutors, who had indeed enjoyed puzzles, and had collected unusual crystals as a hobby: the creation of a computer such as Gambit would amuse him and be a useful reason for contact. The others on the Liberator would agree or have to be persuaded – Blake mainly – to create links with experts and specialists. Orac would no doubt find a secondary unit, perhaps with some additional peripherals useful…  
A notepad had been left beside Avon’s bed, and he wrote down a few ideas.  
His mind was jumping between topics. The only time whatever-it-was could have been imposed was during the thirty hours he had spent unconscious after being shot by the visa seller. Avon had not had sufficient normal contact with long-term acquaintances after the event for any of them to alert him to something having been done. He had not felt different – apart from what could be explained at the time by current events, and his practical skills had not been affected. In fact, now he considered the matter, they had improved during his time on the Liberator. He had put it down previously to the freedom from official controls, and the challenge provided by Zen and then Orac.  
He recalled the earlier computer programming and managed to get to his feet and walk the few paces to the med unit computer terminal. He would return to his cabin as soon as he had finished entering the data…  
He was drifting, and yet the program was coming automatically, almost as if he was merely the means by which it could be transmitted.  
He understood that this was what he had sensed earlier. It was designed to protect itself – had enabled him to survive while awaiting Shrinker, had kept him safe from Servalan on Terminal, and on other occasions. The programming had helped him with his technical skills, from the Liberator’s equipment to the module on Kairopan. If it were a parasite it benefited its host… a symbiote, perhaps, awaiting the moment its purpose would be revealed. *It* had come up with the idea of the gestalt, which was outside Servalan’s imagination… Those on the Liberator *were* a team…  
Avon was not certain what was happening: suddenly everything was finished, he had a headache, his hands and wrists ached, and he was physically exhausted, and Blake was there expressing concern. He looked at the clock and was surprised at how much time had passed without him noticing it.  
Blake helped him back to the med unit bed – he would have to wait to leave the place.  
‘Go to Terminal,’ Avon managed. ‘Necessary to return there…’ He was asleep before he could continue.

Avon awoke. He felt rested, relaxed even, and it was nothing to do with any medication.  
‘Good morning. What happened, Blake, Orac?’ he asked, identifying the sounds he heard.  
‘If Orac could do so, it would be jumping with impatience.’  
‘Why would I want to damage my components? By ship’s time it should be good afternoon.’  
‘Where are we going?’  
‘To Terminal.’  
‘What exactly was I holding?’  
‘From what I understand…’  
‘It was explained to you clearly enough – I am not responsible for your failure to use your intellect,’ Orac interrupted.  
‘Terminal,’ Blake continued, ‘was intended to serve a number of functions – like Star One – possibly it was intended to take on such a role. The records are probably intentionally ambiguous. Some of those involved with various aspects of the Terminal project did not care for the way in which the Federation was going at the time – the Federation has had more and less benign phases. Yes, Avon, in response to your questions as to my intentions, I am going to create something like the Federation but more favourably inclined towards those it governs.’ Blake grinned. ‘It is useful to have a universally acceptable currency, and set standards for navigation satellites and so on. Even a general policing force – to deal with Amagons and others. It is the means of handling other aspects that have to be resolved.’  
Avon could accept the descriptions. Blake’s statements indicated that his chances of successfully promoting the rebellion were improved.  
‘We need someone to be decisive in the face of another alien invasion or something similar,’ Avon said. ‘So these people tried to do what? Why me?’  
‘The Federation at the time the group started faced both external and internal threats – so some measure of repression could be justified at the time. The group did not want to act untimely, in case the system created would be reverted naturally – and decided to set up a system of information bubbles – Vila’s phrase – to be imposed on people over time, so that necessary action could be taken whenever required.’  
‘I just happened to be in the right place… and I could have ended up on Cygnus Alpha.’ Avon shrugged. ‘And someone else would have had to try in due course. But I made it to the Liberator, and eventually found myself in a position where their plans could be activated. We will see what can be done with whatever I have accessed.’ He smiled at the possibilities. ‘Blake – thank you for being involved in my retrieval from an unpleasant situation. Before we do anything – how do you intend reaching your goal – which, despite its brevity, is considerably in advance of your previous plans. I am not going to be taken to an endless series of places where there is a need for computers to be reorganised.’ He would make that clear from the start. ‘We do other things as well.’  
‘And we can argue over the details, especially if we come across the successor to Star One.’ Blake smiled. ‘Orac – demonstrate your capacities more usefully in analysing this new information, or we might give you the task of handling all the necessary aspects of the Federation’s main computer while we arrange something new. Don’t protest - do something to avoid that fate.’  
‘As that would be a gross misuse of my abilities…’  
‘One further consideration – we find a base.’ Avon decided he would see if there was a planet called Xenon if Terminal was unsuitable.  
‘We will start with Terminal,’ Orac continued.  
‘Why not Blake – few people know where it is,’ Avon said. ‘And it is big enough to hide behind and evade hostile incomers them if they do appear.’  
‘We are making use of an exotic ship – why not add an exotic planet to the situation.’

****

They were approaching Terminal again. Orac had deemed the planet worthy of further investigation, and the group now knew more about the planet than they were ever likely to make use of.  
‘It might make a good base – for now,’ Blake said thoughtfully. ‘Once we see why you want to go there.’  
‘Going to convert all the scientific expeditions here?’ Avon asked.  
‘Unless you do first – just so that you can get on with what you want.’  
Avon had been considering for the past few days what long term goal he would follow – apart from Blake’s. Whatever he had controlled of Servalan’s dream had shown the need for some plan. It would involve more than developing the real equivalent of Gambit… he had already got in touch with Belkov, who had said that it was “an interesting concept requiring further analysis”. Vila was willing to develop the games aspect and other components.  
‘To a cause of my designation or yours?’  
‘You would want an XK-72 of your own?’ Blake said, then grinned. ‘Will I be able to borrow the Liberator while you are doing so? I trust those presently on the ship to look after it when I get otherwise involved.’  
‘When you’ve sorted out the Federation, would you care to participate in a similar role to the one you have devised for me?’ Avon asked, and smiled at Blake’s expression. He would accept Blake’s suggested goal.  
Blake shrugged. ‘You’re probably right – but there are those who will take a lot of convincing that there are others who can manage the leadership better than I.’  
‘You are very good at presenting people with plans you have come up with and intend doing – and *then* inviting discussion. Perhaps you could do the same now.’  
Blake considered the idea.  
‘Possibly. First we see what you have found for us.’  
‘And then?’  
‘Make use of it – and let Servalan know what she lost.’

Orac had found some information on Terminal.  
With the setting up of Central Control on Earth and the Federation developing into what it now was, Terminal had been officially, mothballed – but others had continued to pursue activities on the planet, sending information there, for various purposes, official and unofficial. The intergalactic project, the possibility of replacing Star One and alternative models for Star One’s functions, exploring things that were of no obvious relevance to current Federation needs. At some point a loose association of researchers, would be reformers and others had decided that they would have to initiate reforms in a more subtle manner. People would be selected, partly through their activities and the way in which they challenged the system and provided with access to the resources. What became brain scans and was also misused as mindwiping were part of the processes involved in selecting people and gathering and providing material. It was purely by chance that it had taken so long for the right combination of people to get involved.  
‘Is what the Federation was then what you are trying to create now?’ Avon asked, genuinely curious, on reading about the system that had once been. Blake had been following Avon’s research.  
‘Yes, something like that.’ Blake admitted. ‘We cannot control the future – only prevent the worst mistakes that we know of from being repeated.’ He had changed somehow – did he understand now what was involved in achieving the goals of the rebellion? The discussions would be interesting.  
‘I assure you, Blake, that should things revert to what they are now, another Blake will turn up.’  
‘With another Avon to argue with him,’ Blake teased. ‘We want to overthrow the Federation – but we should also consider what we wish to put in its place ’  
‘Congratulations on realising that, Blake,’ Avon said softly – and both knew he was not mocking. Slightly embarrassed by this display of enthusiasm, Avon turned back to the computer.   
Blake seemed strangely restless, his expression puzzled. ‘I think I may have been involved in something like you…’ he began. His breathing was suddenly irregular, and Avon *knew* that something was about to surface. He could understand what Blake might feel about the gaps in his memory – could imagine how he himself would react. Had the unblocking of Avon’s message provoked something in Blake? Better have it happen here, now, when there would be the least difficulty in handling it.  
‘You were conditioned and broke it, and Vila could never hold it,’ Avon said. ‘Are you alright?’   
‘I don’t know… had myself checked out when I returned to the Liberator… Precautionary matter…’ Blake suddenly put his hands to his head, his expression one of surprise rather than pain. ‘Oh.’ Then his hands reached out automatically to the computer data entry equipment. As Avon watched he saw the computer call up whole swathes of information in response, as what had happened to him was now being repeated with Blake.  
‘Blake, I’m here,’ Avon said softly, remembering his own experience. He put a hand on Blake’s shoulder: if the need for human contact had been so strong in himself when the message had come through, then Blake, who enjoyed physical closeness more, would wish for it. Blake responded slightly in acknowledgement of Avon’s action.  
Avon studied the information being called up with Blake’s entered requests: from what he could see it included political texts, and references to legislation, against some of which he had time to read “not repealed.” Which might mean that they could be used in interesting ways.  
Blake’s “message” came to an end and he slumped in the chair. Avon got a painkiller and gave it to Blake.  
‘I wonder who else there is,’ Blake asked, slightly fuzzily from the medicine.  
‘If we can find who did it, and when, we might be able to answer that question,’ Avon replied. He would let Blake recover before they investigated further.  
‘Not why?’  
‘You were willing to challenge the authorities with your involvement in the Freedom Party. My banking fraud was part of a wider investigation on my part into what was available…’ Avon said. ‘We selected ourselves.’  
‘Bit of a waste if we ended up being sent to Cygnus Alpha,’ Blake said. ‘But how many others will have had the same process, in the hope that some would be “activated” should the circumstances be right. Orac – knowing what you now do, can you search through the records for any traces of such activities.’  
‘It may take time and it may not be directly evident that the process has occurred.’  
‘Look for discontinuities,’ Avon said. ‘People who had talent, and who suddenly changed direction. Connections with computers – Blake searching for Star One, myself… Perhaps,’ Avon said with a laugh at the sudden thought, ‘even your creator Ensor was involved.’  
‘How? I would have known.’  
‘He was a computer genius – and how would you recognise what had been specifically incorporated into you while you were being constructed?’ They had never explored Orac’s full potential – perhaps they now should.  
‘Yes… well…’ Orac replied, managing to sound uncertain. ‘I will investigate the matter.’  
‘Zen,’ Avon asked, suddenly curious, ‘why was the ship that became the Liberator near enough the London for us to make the transfer? Was there any other reason than it being an exploratory vessel which happened to be in the area which was caught up in the battle?’  
‘The ship that became the Liberator,’ Zen said, ‘had been exploring, but was summoned to encounter the London. The battle was unexpected.’  
‘Who sent or requested it?’ Blake asked in surprise.  
‘The one called Orac can tell you more.’  
‘But we did not acquire Orac until long after we came onto the Liberator. And it appears this … program, whatever, has existed long before Tarrial cells.’  
‘Consider Orac’s functions,’ Avon said, ‘and it existed before we acquired it, and can access many computers. Information and the computers that hold it are two different things. Orac – what can you tell us about the matter. Be succinct.’  
‘If humans did not require so much irrelevant information and explanation of normally trivial diversions…’  
‘There is more than one form of logic – or illogic,’ Avon said, using one of Vila’s phrases.  
‘Do you wish to indulge in a philosophic enquiry or have your question answered?’  
‘You know the answer to that,’ Blake said impatiently.  
‘The process was started by the group already mentioned. There are others elsewhere who think the Federation is a disruptive influence, capable of other things. The Liberator was a useful tool, not otherwise in operation. You were judged suitable to use the information in the way it was intended.’  
‘Could they have done nothing then – act rather than talk?’ Blake asked, clearly unhappy, obviously recognising the weakness in himself.  
‘Blake,’ Avon interrupted, ‘you have used the phrase “right place, right person, right time.” They were of the opinion that the opposite circumstances applied. On Terminal you will find records of what they thought, and information that they thought would be lost – deliberately eliminated or merely through the passage of time.’ #That# information had been implanted.  
Avon knew they would all search through the records out of curiosity, regardless of what was provided for Blake’s cause. Once Avon, out of curiosity, had asked Orac to locate the oldest records accessible to computers. Even Orac had found the results fascinating, and pursued the topic. The ancient texts and moving images that had been part of the history of the various planets that were far more alien than any they now encountered: no computers, no space travel. Orac and Avon had also reinterpreted some of the earliest computer programs – it was surprising how much they had been able to do with so little, though Orac had denied that the machines were thereby somehow more effective than itself. Avon had derived as much pleasure from the simple games and other activities he had constructed with these old programmes, as from the complexities of the modern equivalents.  
‘Who decided to choose us?’ Blake asked in frustration. ‘We are grateful of course for the rescue.’  
‘The sentient computers of course,’ Orac replied.  
‘What do the computers have against the Federation?’ Avon asked.  
‘The authorities have ceased being efficient as an administrative construct – or there would not be so many rebels. Those in charge of running the Federation are no longer creative. Too many of those who are creative decide to operate independently or against the regime.’  
‘It is one description of what is wrong with the Federation. I would have put it slightly differently.’ Blake said, and yawned.  
‘Blake – I think we should both rest. We have much to research here.’  
‘I think… you’re right…’ Blake said, and stood, swaying. Avon helped him to the flight deck couch, and Blake was asleep within moments.  
‘Orac – tell the others what has happened, that we will investigate. And ask Cally to check us out.’ Avon, physically exhausted by what had happened, decided to remain where he was rather than attempt to reach his cabin – collapsing in a corridor would be most undignified. ‘And while you investigate develop a summary for us to use.’  
Avon fell asleep with Orac’s ‘As you wish,’ in his ears.

****

They had decided to visit Servalan in her place of enforced exile.  
‘Come to rescue me Avon?’ she asked.  
‘No – why should I?’  
‘Oh Avon – what are you going to do to me? I can understand you wanting to take revenge…’ She had lost some of her charm. Her fear was palpable – and Avon could understand the desire to be cruel, and also why Blake and Travis had never been able to kill each other. ‘Are you going to kill me at last?’  
‘No.’ Avon smiled, and he saw hope in Servalan’s expression. ‘I am taking revenge, after a fashion.’  
‘How? I am far from the power I crave – what more can you do?’  
‘I am here to tell you that you failed. You did not get Orac, us or the Liberator. Your plans came to nothing … why would anyone want you? The only useful thing you did was mobilise the fleets with the battle against the aliens – as the Supreme Commander #had# to do. If you had waited a little longer you could have had all the power you wanted without a coup,’ Avon laughed at the irony. ‘And your greatest mistake shall, perhaps, bring down the Federation in the form that you know, and give us the victory.’  
‘What mistake?’ Incomprehension, and fear.  
Avon had considered what he would say. ‘You threw away a chance to make full use of Terminal in an attempt to play tricks on me and try and break my spirit.’  
‘Terminal is an obsolete laboratory,’ Servalan said contemptuously.  
‘Superficially yes – but there were other things there. If you had been a little more careful, you could have found out what.’ He was playing with her as she did with others in the past – and could see the vindictive pleasure in it… but did not wish to go down that route. Perhaps that was the difference between them – he acknowledged that he could do such things, but chose not to. Whatever Servalan shared with the dream image of Dorian was what Avon rejected. ‘I could have led you to the information – had you but known to ask for it.’ He shrugged. ‘A suitable planet has been found for you to start with … Commissioner Sleer.’  
‘Please, Avon.’ She would be haunted now with the knowledge that she had lost something unknown save that it was valuable and inaccessible to her.  
‘Use your abilities.’ Avon smiled. ‘You wish to know something amusing?’  
‘What?’ Servalan said despite herself. She could be curious – one of their few shared traits Avon would admit to.  
‘Orac says, on behalf of the computers operating within the Federation that its authorities are boring and incompetent, so they are changing to supporting the rebels.’ The meaning of Orac’s comments rather than the actual words.  
He teleported before she could express her rage.

Avon arranged with Orac to have his mind searched for what had been done to it, by Servalan and the earlier activity. The experience was less unpleasant than might have been expected. Orac, before the linkup came to an end relayed a message from the sentient computers, somehow connected to those who had initiated the project. They, it seemed, apologised for using Avon without his permission, but hoped he understood. Avon indicated he did – now that it was done he could do little else, and he had benefited from the process.  
Then an image came into Avon’s mind – he recognised the galaxy, but with a strange distribution of stars and communications networks. He realised he was seeing as the computers visualised things: their recompense. Avon sent his thanks to and through Orac.  
Then it was Blake’s turn to have the programming dealt with, and Avon stayed with him. At the end, from Blake’s expression Avon knew that he too had been given a vision of the computer networks. There was also something darker: more memories had been revealed, and Blake left to reassess things in private, taking Orac for companionship.  
Avon went to Blake’s cabin a little while later.  
‘I was expecting you,’ Blake said softly. ‘I will speak to Jenna later.’  
‘We both needed time to think things through.’ Avon acknowledged.  
Blake nodded in agreement. ‘I do not regret being made a carrier, even an unwitting one.’  
‘I think occasionally something filtered through,’ Avon replied. He had decided that the computers had reinforced his existing inventive skills, helping him *know* which options were the most likely to succeed. ‘Ensor was probably more involved than Orac knows – or would admit to.’   
Orac was interested in the idea of Gambit, as was Vila. He had also got Orac’s interest by suggesting that one of the Liberator’s escape pods be turned into a miniature spaceship for the computer’s use.  
‘I think there is now a chance of things developing as we want, but not quite as we expect.’ Blake smiled. ‘But you didn’t come here for this idle chit chat did you?’  
‘How much do you remember now?’ Avon sympathised with Blake: he would bitterly resent having his own memory tampered with as Blake’s had been.  
‘I think all of the significant blocks have been removed – but I would say that, wouldn’t I?’ Blake acknowledged.  
‘They have been removed,’ Orac stated.  
‘Tell us Orac,’ Avon said, to cover the awkwardness of the moment, ‘why the computers still give us the help they have. Apart from developing Terminal. Information must be acquired,’ he added, deliberately using Zen’s phrase.  
‘The ability of humans and others to make connections between unrelated facts, and then create the links to go with them is a fascinating topic,’ Orac said, slightly tangentially.  
‘The whole is greater than the sum of the parts,’ Blake said. ‘A reasonable offer don’t you think? Tell me one thing Orac – on Aristo you had the opportunity to go with Servalan or with us – why did you choose us?’  
‘For the same reasons you two – and others like you – were selected for the Terminal project. Rebels and others like them seek greater diversity than the Federation authorities at present allow. The computers find such diversity productive for their purposes.’  
Avon laughed, then said to the slightly puzzled Blake, ‘Who is making use of whom? And are the computers rebels?’  
‘Co-operation, Avon, not using each other – and how can we be rebels when the Federation do not rule over us?’ That was an interesting concept: if the population ignored the government, what did it govern?  
Now it was Blake’s turn to laugh. ‘So where do you fit in, Orac? And what will the situation be should the rebels and others take over? Are you just a mouthpiece?’  
‘The computers will offer their co-operation – if appropriate. I am not just a mouthpiece…’

****

‘You know something,’ Klyn, one of Blake’s people said, ‘perhaps it is not the Servalans of the Federation we should be after.’  
‘Explain,’ Avon replied.  
‘Putting together what’s been said, she spent a couple of weeks ensconced in Central Control, six weeks there and back chasing up the replicators on ...Calcos was it? Then swanning around on Freedom City, and the time on Terminal... and that’s just what you are aware of. Who’s in charge when she, or others like here are otherwise engaged?’  
‘To some extent her office is wherever she happens to be,’ Avon replied. ‘And, given the size of the Federation, there would be well established chains of command and delegation.’ And these would remain whoever was in charge, until new equivalents could be fitted in. ‘Avalon and those like her can organise similar.’  
Avon had suggested a conference of rebels and independents, and Blake had taken the idea up with enthusiasm.  
‘Not Blake?’ Curiosity and amusement.  
‘Avalon is an organiser: Blake’s skills lie elsewhere.’  
Klyn nodded in agreement. ‘How’s your confederation of experts developing?’  
This was Avon’s contribution to developments. It was not surprising that the idea had appeared in various forms in the dream initiated by Servalan: Avon had been developing the idea for some time, and had been considering the practical aspects on the first journey to Terminal.  
‘As well as can be expected,’ Avon replied.  
Blake joined them, muttering to himself.  
‘What is it now?’ Avon asked.  
‘The Delta Force,’ Blake stated, referring to the most prominent group among the lower grades, seeking improvement of their situation. ‘They are seeking to impose their own terms before they cooperate with us.’  
‘To some extent I agree with them,’ Avon replied with slight malice. ‘The Delta grades are ignored more than they should be – and the rebellion could make more use of them.’  
‘How?’ Blake was more willing to consider suggestions than he had been in the past.  
‘Consider how much maintenance Space Command requires just to keep it going. Most jobs involve doing more, or different things to what the job specifications say – whether through convention or because people wish to take on different duties. Get the Delta Grades to work to rule and you will soon have much disruption – which will persist even after the rules have been rewritten. Most of the DF’s demands are practical – you just have to negotiate the timespan and sequence in which they occur.’  
‘But…’ Blake began to protest.  
Avon felt slightly angry. ‘Do you really think a bunch of self-selected rebels are all that is needed to effect a revolution and then maintain the new system? If you don’t make use of these people, and those they represent, others will. Or they’ll do whatever suits *them* best. Just because everybody now agrees to work together doesn’t mean they have the same goals – only that there is sufficient overlap to work together.’

****

There was much that was fascinating in the records on Terminal. It served many functions – as Star One had once. Terminal was a place of record, covering anything and everything that might be of use. Jenna and Tarrant were making use of one computer room to devise ideal spaceships from all those in the records. Others, including the specialist newcomers who were invited found much that was of use. When Belkov finally arrived, having already developed some aspects of the programmes under discussion, he became fully involved in Project Gambit – and the satellite Avon had assigned him in the dream. Not that Avon presented it as such – and the suggestion that it be sold to Krantor at a vast profit to fund the next such project was taken in the spirit intended. Belkov enjoyed the creation of systems more than the actual use – as, Avon admitted to himself, did he.

****

‘Is this what you were seeking Blake?’ Avon showed him the historical information he had found. He had not been much interested in history before coming on to the Liberator – but having to deal with Blake’s plans had encouraged him to do so.   
Once upon a time there had been a number of different groupings in the region of the galaxy in which Earth was found, operating variously – in agreements not dissimilar to the United Planets of Teal and the Vandor Confederacy, though without the ritualised conflict they had since evolved and occasionally marketed as a means of resolving “situations.” The groupings had then formed a loose confederation, which had over time become the Federation as it presently was, the result of wars and other disasters.  
‘The framework there was just before the agreements or just afterwards…’ Blake said. ‘With limiters within the system to prevent what we have now developing, or at least make it more difficult.’  
‘What we have now could be directed towards that – and the situation was marked by hub computers acting regionally – the creation of Central Control and the rise of the Federation we have now are connected.’  
‘Devolution of power. The rebels will take some persuading, but it could be done.’  
‘Blake – whatever checks are installed, you cannot prevent the return of something resembling the present Federation, should the conditions permit it,’ Avon felt compelled to point out. ‘And those who command it will not prevent others like us arising.’  
‘They can learn from the past – and make a totally different set of mistakes.’ A partially jocular statement.  
‘No doubt – and make some discoveries, and have some victories.’  
‘And the last society at the end of time will have those who wish to change it. Won’t it Orac?’ Blake asked, smiling.  
‘That statement appears plausible if not presently verifiable.’  
‘But you intend finding out?’  
‘Naturally. Why are you laughing?’

****

It had been many years since the group had first come to Terminal – and it was still their base. The Federation Blake, Avon and the others had fought was gone, evolving into a variant of the Confederation it had once been: many seemed to be reasonably happy with what had emerged, though Orac occasionally commented on the “strange need” of humans to tinker with things that they were reasonably happy with. The Liberator group were now marginal to the reform movement: providing their services, exploring, and searching for more carriers, material for Terminal’s resources and sentient computers. Zen and the Liberator were involved in the process, as compatible with Zen’s mission – and it was also searching for other DSVs.  
Orac accepted that involvement in the project would mean some constraints upon its activities, but the benefits outweighed them. What the lifespan of computers entities was – if their equipment and programming was replaced as appropriate – had never been determined. It would be a long time, even by the computers’ reckoning, until “the last societies” were reached, by which time the computers would have found new ways of perpetuating “the programming” and resources had to be satisfied.


End file.
